Old MacDonald

The sun was shining brightly and it felt nice and warm on his face. It was a beautiful early spring day in Michigan. The sky was a bright cobalt blue color and no clouds were in sight. The newly mowed hay smelled sweet and fresh.

He sat up high in the John Deere 8840. An air conditioned cab sheltered him from the elements and he could listen to talk radio too. Sure was a far cry from the old days he thought.

As he rounded the corner to start another row the tractor scared up a doe and her young fawn. “Whew,” he thought, he hated it when they couldn’t get out of the way quick enough. He was almost done with this field.

The only thing he enjoyed more than this was flying. He had to give up his pilot license long ago due to his heart problems. He could no long pass his medical exam.

He hated getting older. He was almost 80 and knew he could not keep working on the broken tractors and lifting heavy bags of feed much longer.

He had a friend named Jeff who owned a car dealership. He needed someone to shuttle cars back and forth from the auctions and deliver title work, he could do that and it would be fun, meeting people, talking about cars, drinking coffee, he thrived on being with others. It was his life blood and the only thing that made it better was being paid for it.

He was a child of the depression and he felt so lucky any time he could go to work. Work was the reason he got up every morning. He didn’t understand why it irked his kids so much.

He pulled the tractor and mower into the barn and looked at his watch. “Good,” he thought, he still had time to stop at the Bakery and catch up with the coffee gang.

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